‘doctors must be the sickest people on earth,’ thakuru says.

‘hmm?’

it’s a blustery day, the trees rustled furiously on our way to zeeba’s. umbrella’d parents ushered their young into homes in haste as if to prevent a stroke (or a strike) of fate. our next salahuddin in arrested development because of a cruel collision with a wayward object from above? no!

‘who’d want to look at diseased bits of people eight hours a day? it’s ludicrouse.’ continues thakuru.

‘what was that?’

‘and it seems a bit moronic,’ he goes on, ‘to call yourself a doctor on your ID if you only had a doctorate in art history for example.’

i try to drink my hazelnut latte, it’s proving a chore. as is thakuru’s raving.

‘you know what i find funny?’ i ask.

‘tell me.’

‘there’s this type of person – if you ask them to come by yours they’d say, oh i’ll be there after maghrib.’

‘oh boy, don’t i know them.’

‘yeah aren’t they…’ i wait for him to complete my sentence with that word he’d said.

‘is it so hard to say they’ll be over in half an hour? why must they rub it in? ’

‘god knows.’

thakuru eats a slice of baked cheesecake.

‘this isn’t bad, not solid though, the flavours seem a bit pale, but it’s alright actually,’ he says.

‘the hell are you saying?’

‘just thinking out loud. it’s edible.’
thakuru’s phone rings – it’s the coy intro to bizet’s carmen. he declines the call. and something settles into place within me.

‘you know what? i think music is probably the purest of the arts,’ i tell thakuru.

‘what do you mean?’

‘it’s something other arts aspire to. like literature for instance. it talks about harmony, the musicality of the prose, the rhythm, and so on.’

‘all right.’

‘whereas music needs no comparison. it’s sufficient unto itself. it’s not like a novel that you read and try to make sense of. music just HAPPENS to you and it takes you away or leaves you cold.’

‘hmm.’

‘yeah. you have DIRECT access to it. and i bet it’s processed deeper, more closer to your uh core if you will.’

‘all right,’ says thakuru.

‘i’ll get the bill,’ i tell him.

‘music to my ears.’